Soirée for Rwanda and Saying Goodbye (02/05/08—04/05/08)

This weekend was exciting, heartbreaking, hopeful, and sad. It was a weekend of stories and goodbyes. I went to Bourg en Bresse for the final time to hang out with Anne on Friday night. I was able to go right after school and so we got a night to ourselves before the craziness of the next day started. We went over to Aude’s briefly and talked about movie stars and our List of 5 (the 5 stars you’d marry if they walked into the room right then)—very girly, but very fun. We hit the sack relatively early, but not before meeting the new roommate (since Clém had left in March). He was nice, and Anne, Gael, and I sat around talking with him for awhile.

Saturday was the “Soirée pour Rwanda” which was a project Anne and Mukasa (the father of the Rwandan family she was tutoring this year) had been planning since the beginning of the semester. It was going to be an awareness night of sorts and also a fundraiser for Africa Mission Alliance, a non-profit working with children in Rwanda, Burundi, and DR Congo. The plan was to have a couple testimonies of the genocide, dancing, music, a slideshow and explanation of AMA, and an aperitif afterwards. Well, as we started out that day with a million things to do, certain things came to light. One, the dancers scheduled from Lyon weren’t coming. Two, the main speaker (Mukasa’s friend who was a justice at the International War Crimes Tribunal for the genocide) wasn’t sure when he was going to show up…oh brother. Anne explained that this is how things are in Rwanda…it’s a completely different sense of time. And, this friend was Mukasa’s best man at his wedding and was two hours late. That did not bode well. However, thankfully Christine (Mukasa’s French wife) called his friend and was like “this is NOT how we do things in France, you will arrive at this time, have lunch with us, etc etc.” Go Christine!

So, on the morning of the event, there was a lot of scrambling. Anne and I were taking care of setting everything up, which turned out to be a big problem due to technology issues. She had a video slideshow representing the work of AMA to present, only for some reason the disc wouldn’t play in her computer, though everything was fine with the projector. But, it played in mine so we hooked mine up to the church’s projector instead…only to find out that my computer wouldn’t recognize the projector was even hooked up. Grrrrrrrrrr. It’s at times like these that I wish I was more of a computer whiz. We tried everything we could think of all afternoon, only nothing worked. We even called Gael who was coming from Lyon and asked if he could bring his laptop—he could. Only later he texted saying he missed his train and wouldn’t be there in time. Finally, we had to get around to setting up all the food so we had to scrap the video. Oh well.

The event itself was a success. To replace the dancing troupe, many of Mukasa’s friends found fabric and did the dancing (it’s a huge part of the culture so everyone knows how to do it). His friend spoke very well and it was interesting (lots of people asked questions afterwards). Then, a woman who’d experienced the genocide gave her testimony which was heartbreaking. It was obviously still very raw, and though she didn’t include a ton of detail you definitely got the idea of the pain and suffering of that time. Anne and Christine also gave a great presentation of AMA which hopefully encouraged some people to sponsor children in those countries. There were also lots of people that stuck around for awhile downstairs (we apparently wooed them with a Breton cake that’s full of butter—it all went in like 2 seconds). I got to catch up with Mira, one of the primary school German assistants teaching in Bourg. It was neat to hear her perspective on the year, living situation, etc—it confirmed the fact that we all had such different experiences as assistants!

After and indoor BBQ at Aurélie’s place (I love that people can eat at 10pm at night here and don’t bat and eyelash), I actually went back to Anne and Gael’s place to crash. The rest of the group was headed out to a club somewhere in Bourg but I was exhausted…the others were the next morning when we all woke up ;) But, we had a nice last breakfast together…it was weird to think I wouldn’t be coming back to this apartment or seeing Anne again. I said goodbye to her landlords on the way out (I’d met them on several occasions), and then she walked me to the train station. I tend to get emotional and this was no exception. I officially hate goodbyes! Au revoir Bourg en Bresse.

The Goodbyes Continue (31/04/08)

Tonight Alan, the Mexican assistant, stopped by to say goodbye…he is leaving in a couple days to go home for good. I was sad that I didn’t really see Alan much the second semester, but we’d still had plenty of fun times playing and singing together in the fall—it’ll be sad to see him go (Andrea and Steffi have already left, so after Alan goes I’ll be the last one left in Oyonnax). Originally he was just stopping by, but we hadn’t talked in so long that he stayed for dinner and we got more of a chance to catch up. Alan’s not sure what he’ll do next or where he’ll go, though he really wants to learn Chinese so China might be in the cards—this kid is incredible! He left me with postcards from his hometown and an open invitation to come visit…and I’m very tempted. We shall see :) Regardless, it was a low-key and lovely evening and a good way to say goodbye. The end is starting…

April Vacation: Days in the Sun (23/04/08—27/04/08)

Geneva
After passing through baggage and customs, we met up with Jane and Flo’s dad. I was going to be staying in Geneva for a couple days in order to see Jane’s play, “Kiss Me Kate.” Pat and Flo would be heading back to France. We all talked for a bit, and then parted. Ireland was over. While waiting for Jane to finish work, I chilled at the same café where I’d ended up after arriving in October—everything came full circle (and this time I could order in French with no hesitancy). Eventually we ran to catch the train (just like last time) and got back to her parents’ place soon after.

We took her dog Rosie for a walk, and then had a lovely dinner with her dad once he got home from work. Her dad and I compared Ireland experiences and I showed him where we’d been on an Ireland tea towel that they happened to have…heh. It works. Soon though, we were all tired and hit the sack. Both Jane and her dad would be at work early the next day and I was beat after going going going for 9 days.

I slept in the next morning for the first time in forever, and as I was getting ready to head out for the day, ran into the cleaning lady and Jane’s mom who’d just flown in from the States. Since I had a whole day in Geneva I decided to catch up on some of the touristy things I’d never done. My first stop was the Musée de la Croix-Rouge (the Red Cross Museum) which was fascinating and very well put together. There were cool artistic screens, multi-media presentations, artifacts, old postcards, art displays, and the “boxes”….you could walk into each one and they presented different projects the Red Cross had been involved in throughout the world. The one on the Rwandan genocide and the atrocities at Srebenica really struck me. The walls inside the box were covered in colored photos of all the children separated from their parents during the Rwandan genocide (the RC had compiled a database to track down family members). The outside featured a book of names from those murdered at Srebenica (in B&H). When you see the pictures and see the actual names, it hits a lot closer to home. Upstairs there was a temporary exhibition on nuclear power damage around the worlds. The pictures of people affected by the radiation were also moving when you realize how dramatically their lived were altered.
After taking the bus back to the train station, I walked down to the lake and spent some time next to the water and taking pictures—it was a gorgeous day and most of my previous times in Geneva had been gray or rainy. I headed into the Old Town and explored there a bit before resting under the leafy green trees along the city walls. You could still see the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Lovely. I went into the Protestant Cathedral and found a chapel there I’d not seen before…it’s a 180° difference from the very austere and simple interior of the cathedral itself. Every bit of wall space/arch/ceiling panel/etc was decorated in beautiful blue, gold, and red painted designs. Plus, there was a lot more ornamentation, lots of gilding, and intricate stained glass.

Eventually I got back to the train station to take a bus to "Rive" in order to catch the bus back to the apartment. However, I got on a bus that before it gets you to Rive, goes around the whole city. So, I got an impromptu visit of Geneva and since I had time, could relax and watch the scenery go by. Back in Veyznat I made a grocery run—I was cooking dinner that night. Chez Kennedy, Jane and I set to work—she preparing the most fabulous guacamole ever, and me cooking an Italian gnocchi dish. It turned out well and Jane’s mom told me how wonderful it was to come back from a trip and have dinner prepared for her. For dessert I had opted for fresh strawberries and whipped cream…in a can. Mr. Kennedy was convinced they didn’t sell that in Europe, but I found it and was hoping for the best—meaning that from experience, aerosol cans of whipped cream could lead to pretty funny occurrences. Sure enough, it was the first time Mr. Kennedy had used one, and ended up spraying Mrs. Kennedy with whipped cream….hilarious! We were all in stitches. Mission accomplished.

The next day I slept in again (glorious) and then got a text from Jane saying she could meet me for lunch. I met up with her and her boyfriend Matti at Cornavin train station. We proceeded to a gourmet Italian eatery—fresh everything, beautiful ingredients. We got to pick everything or our sandwiches and then went to a lovely park by the lake, from where we could see the giant soccer ball balloon floating over the Jet d’Eau…Euro Cup fever getting ready to hit Switzerland. It was the quintessential spring day and actually a welcome relief after the cold and wind of Ireland. Jane soon left to go back to work and Matti and I visited an English book sale, where I found out he was a fellow "Black Adder" lover—hurray!

We then took a “mouette” (a water taxi) across the lake and explored the ruins of Geneva under the Protestant Cathedral…I had no idea they were even there, but they were apparently the foundations of the entire city, built around and over an ancient chieftan’s tomb! The things you learn. Matti needed to go home and get ready for the play that night so I headed back to the apartment for more relaxation. Jane was home just after that and we grabbed food and her supplies and took off for Nyon. I watched the cast warm up, met Matti’s sister, and then got to my seat for the show. It was delightful and the leads were fabulous...I definitely laughed a lot and it was enjoyable to hear songs that I knew. Afterwards, I went with some of the cast to a pub, Jane and I being accompanied by Sylvain, a crazy Frenchman and one of the cast members, who serenaded us the whole way—Les Miserables, bien sur. He has a fantastic voice so we totally rocked out on the way there. The evening ended fairly early because everyone was tired and still needed to drive home, so home we went and blasted the iPod on the way—hurray for fun nights out!

Lyon
I was up pretty early Saturday morning in order to catch a train to Lyon (I would be meeting up with W&M friends). Jane was a sweetheart and got up to have breakfast with me and we said goodbye as I ran to catch the bus to Cornavin. The train ride to Lyon was no problem, albeit crowded, and since it was still daylight out I got to watch the incredible scenery of green hills, mountains, and crystalline rivers flow by. I arrived in Lyon and waited a bit to take a bus to Gael’s (my friend with whom I’d be staying)…it took awhile, but the ride up the hill further into the 5e arrondissment was beautiful and I got awesome views of the city. Once there, I dropped my things, had lunch with him and his mom, and then Gael and I went to Place Bellecour. We were going to meet up with Mary (who’d I'd been traveling with in Ireland), Lisa (a good friend from W&M and my former roommate in Lyon), and hopefully Dani (another good friend from W&M passing through the city). We met up with the first two right away, and as we started taking pictures, were joined by Dani too! Fabulous! Though it was totally by chance. Dani didn’t have a cell phone and had gotten into the city at a different time than expected and wasn’t sure she was going to catch us. But, even after going the wrong way on the metro, she managed to find her way back (with the help of a nice French lady) and got to us just in time.

For the afternoon we got to play tourists and hit up the roman amphitheaters, the basilica de Fourvière, Saint Jean cathedral, and Vieux Lyon. Lisa and I also insisted on stopping by our favorite patisserie and picking up some yummy pastries before walking along the river. We found a grassy spot in the shade on the Rhône riverfront, along with practically everyone else in Lyon. It was just a perfect day and we sat and talked for awhile, Dani and I walked a bit along the river, and then all us girls went to mass at St. Bonaventure.

Meeting up on Rue Merciere (a street with nothing but restaurants) with Gael, we went to a restaurant my parents had taken Lisa and me to when they visited before. On the way, there were two French girls coming out who saw us thinking about going in and totally went into this dramatic warning not to eat there—the service was awful, they said, and they’d rather pay a couple extra Euro and eat somewhere else on the street. But, in the end, our frugality won out and we decided to go in. It actually wasn’t that bad. It was a little harried and we got another table’s appetizers at one point, but it was actually very cozy, we had a great conversation the whole time, and Dani discovered that the “brain” sausage she ordered tasted just like American hot dogs…hmmmm. Heh. Makes you wonder what they put I hot dogs. Plus, even though I wasn’t sure if Gael was having a good time, I heard later from Anne that at a party he was telling everyone he went out “with 4 American girls!”. Good times, good times.

After dinner we went out for drinks, and were joined by the 2 guys living in Lisa’s and my old apartment (they were there with the UVa program too)…small world, but Mary went to school with one of them. We found a brasserie and were also later joined by two of the Bourg boys, Aurelien and Arnaud. We all just sat and chatted for awhile, though before long the owner wanted to close down and politely asked us to leave. Arnaud was a sweetheart and drove Gael and I back up the hill since we’d missed the last bus home. The three of us sat in his car and talked for awhile and it was one of the first like real and honest conversations I’d had with Arnaud (usually he’s very joke-y and it’s fun, but hard to get under the surface.). Gael and I crashed almost as soon as we walked in—I knew it was going to be another early morning.

Sure enough, I was up with the sun, but Gael was nice enough to get up and have coffee with me. We said our goodbyes and I went back into town to meet the girls at their hotel. They were just about to eat breakfast, and the owner offered me breakfast as well—sooo nice of her. While the girls were upstairs packing, I spoke to the woman for a long time. She seemed very sad and told me about her children who were disabled, the failing state of France due in part to immigration, and then we changed course and discussed the Obama/Hillary competition. (I’ve gathered over the past few weeks that people are much more interested in the democratic primary than we are). I felt like maybe she just doesn’t have many people to talk to, or does and they don’t really listen. Mary is convinced I have the personality that invites confidence. Either way, it was a heavy conversation.

We left our bags at the hotel and went out for our last morning together and my last day of vacation. Our first stop was the Saône River for the markets. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, there is a gi-normous fresh food market on one side of the river, and a massive art and artisan market on the other side…it was one of my favorite things to do on Sundays so I was stoked. Plus, all the trees were in bloom along the river (which I hadn’t seen before because I’d left Lyon in December), and petals from pear trees blew everywhere like confetti—what a joy to be a part of spring in France. Lisa and I saw our chicken guys (the same ones we bought a rotisserie chicken from every week), though sadly our favorite jewelry lady was gone. I did see a lot of artists I recognized and we had a very enjoyable stroll down the quai under the trees and sun.

We then got ice cream (after sifting through the near 50 flavors!), walked back through Vieux Lyon, picked up our bags, and headed to Perrache train station. It had come time to say goodbye. I’d be going back to Oyonnax, Dani onto Paris, Lisa to Poland, and Mary to Bonneville. It had been so wonderful to have our mini-reunion and I realized how much it felt like home to be with those girls. Basically, it was the perfect ending to an amazing vacation. Huzzah!

April Vacation: Ireland! (15/04/08—23/04/08)

Well, they definitely call it “The Emerald Isle” for a reason! I spent this past week of vacation traveling and carousing along the western coast of Ireland—and had a blast!! Traveling with two other assistants and one frenchie, we totally dove headfirst into the beauty, serenity, and culture of what’s sure to become one of my favorite places to visit. The story begins as normally as any other….

Traveling—The Beginning

Pat, an assistant from my départment, arrived at my house Sunday night after I’d napped a bit and started packing. In order to not forget my Eurail Pass that I’d need for the train travel in Ireland, I clipped it to the shade of the big lamp on my desk. Pat walks in and goes “oh crap” and realized he’d left his Eurail pass back at home! And just as a note, his town is more remote and harder to get to than mine…I think it took him something like 4 hours just to get there on Sunday! Luckily we still had Monday because we weren’t leaving until Tuesday, so he had time to go back. We relaxed for the rest of the evening and I kicked the bucket around 10ish since I was still exhausted from the weekend. The next day, Pat was up and gone back to Montmerle before I even woke up. He got in later that evening and everything was fine—whew!!

On Tuesday afternoon Florence and her dad picked Pat and I up from my apartment. Her dad had offered to drive us to the airport which was so nice of him and which saved us the 3h30 bus/train trip from Oyonnax to Geneva. As we were driving through the mountains we still got to see snow-capped peaks which don’t exist in Virginia in the springtime. We got to the airport with plenty of time, and after having to pay to check my bag (not knowing this beforehand), we looked at the departures board. Of the 30 flights listed, ours was the only one—you guessed it—that was late. Oh great. The thing was, we were taking the last train from Dublin to Galway that night…since we already had hostel reservations, and Mary was waiting for us (she’d gotten to Dublin before us), we had to make that train. With our normal landing time, we would have had 2 hours to get from the airport to Heuston Station which was totally do-able. Now, it looked as if we’d only have an hour and 15 minutes…not too bad, perhaps a little more stressful, but we could still manage.

We get to the gate, and we’re waiting…and waiting…and waiting some more. Turns out, the flight was going to be over an hour late—meaning that our time to catch the train was dwindling faster and faster. It looked like by the time we landed, got through passport control, and got our bags, we’d only have about 40 minutes! The bus ride we were going to take was supposed to be around 40 minutes, and so after talking to our stewardess on the flight, we decided a taxi might just get us there faster. This was going to be a close one! I’m not one to stress while abroad in France, but if there is one thing I stress about it’s transportation. The middle to end of the flight was murder. (and of course we were at the back of the plane which meant more time getting off. I was all about praying for divine intervention).

Getting off the plane, we start running and saying a lot of “excuse me’s” as we darted past people to get in line. While Florence and I were getting our bags, Pat went to check on our transportation options. We couldn’t find him afterwards, so I started to freak out a little bit, but eventually we caught up with him and he led us to the taxi stand…where there was a good line already formed. I had the sense that we were definitely not going to make it (we had 35 minutes at this point) if we waited in line, so we politely asked if we could move to the front since we were rushing to catch the last train outta town. Graciously, people let us cut and we hopped in a taxi.

Safely in the taxi, we told the driver about our imminent departure and he seemed confident we could make it there in time. Okay, good. (the only thing we’d forgotten was that we were going to be driving straight through Dublin at the peak of rush hour traffic). Our driver was friendly and we talked to him the whole way about Dublin, hiking in the Wicklow mountains, and James Joyce. We also texted Mary to let her know that we were on our way (she was already on the train) and to ask her if she would get them to hold the train for us…heh. As we neared the Guinness brewing factory, which I knew was near the station, I got even more nervous seeing as how we were moving very slowly up the quay and we only had about 6 minutes! Our driver drove us right into the station near our platform and we thanked him, jumped out, and got on the train 2 minutes before it left. Talk about near misses.

Finding Mary, who’d sectioned off 4 seats facing each other, we collapsed from tension-induced exhaustion. It was wonderful to see her and great to catch up. Also, the ride through the Irish countryside with the setting sun was beautiful. Because we hadn’t had anytime to grab food, Mary shared her package of “Digestives” with us…for the Americans out there, they’re big round cookies that taste like graham crackers (though are more buttery). Yum! As I hadn’t had a graham cracker in 8 months, it tasted a bit like home. I was happy.

Arriving in Galway right on time, we soon found our hostel with no problem. It had a really cool vibe (and there were lots of people about), a helpful staff, a cool mural of the last supper on the wall in the common dining area, and we got our own room…basically, no worries. After the plane stress, it was great to have everything taken care of. We headed out to the two main pedestrian streets in search of food and stopped at the Spar market for some light fare. We munched down by the river and heading back up the streets ran into a lot of buskers (street musicians)—one of whom thought we were French. I found that to be amusing. Back at the hostel we used the internet and went to bed—it was going to be an early morning!

The Aran Islands (Oileáin Árann) and Galway (Gaillimh)

The next morning, we work up early…to sunshine! From what I’d heard from people, I was not expecting any sun on the trip so I was pleasantly surprised. After breakfast at the hostel (toast and cereal), we checked out, and went to pick up our bus tickets (we were going to have to take a bus to the ferry). And conveniently, the bus picked up right in front of our hostel. It was a gorgeous drive along the coast, though unfortunately there were pointalism advertisements covering the bus windows so it made it harder to see…I understand the need to advertise things, but what was outside the window was so much more appealing.

We got to the ferry right on time. The then ride started—innocently enough at first. About 10 minutes into things, we hit the wind, full force. This was not a big ferry boat (we were all on one level and were outside) and so we definitely got tossed, waves came over the edge, everyone got wet, and it was hilarious! There had been some very trendy girls who’d sat in the middle of the seating section thinking they were not going to get wet—hah! Were they wrong! At least we were all in the same boat (hehehe).

About an hour later we arrived at the docks at Kilronan, Inishmore. We checked into the hostel which was right there on the beach and again got our own room. Hurray! Almost immediately, we headed out to rent bikes and go see the island. The bikes and helmets were awful, but eventually we got going and started up the main road towards the Dun Aengus fortress. When we’d first arrived at the dock, it was dark and gray (a cool dramatic looking sky nonetheless), so again I was pleasantly surprised that as we rode it got sunnier and sunnier. And everything was green. And there were adorable white houses with thatched roofs, stone walls (they’re the coolest thing—it’s just rocks stacked on each other, no mortar, and they’ve been there forever), the cornflower blue sea, yellow flowers dotting the fields, ancient stone ruins, and even palm trees! Oh yeah, and the wind—like whoa. We passed by a cemetery all with Celtic cross markers, and nearby was this gorgeous turquoise blue cove and white-sanded beach. Picturesque. Along the road past the beach we encountered a group of about 40 French school children all on a field trip (voyage de découvert). It was hilarious because as they were all riding their bikes they kept shouting “à gauche! à gauche!” meaning, “to the left! to the left!”…we were all getting used to riding on the other side of the road.

For lunch, we stopped at café near the base of Dun Aengus called Tigh Nad Padi’s. Basically, it rocked. It’s a delightfully cozy café, with wonderful food and very sweet ladies who worked there. It was also “packed” though we were able to grab a table not to far from the big stone fireplace. W all had homemade tomato soup and brown bread (amazing) and then totally jumped on the homemade desserts: Florence went with toffee, Mary and Pat with carrot cake, and me with Guinness chocolate cake—mmmmmm. It was so warm and homey inside that we didn’t want to leave, but back out we went into the wind.

We went through the Visitor Center entrance and then headed up the hill to Dun Aengus. It’s one of the “best preserved prehistoric forts” in Europe…and, the concentric circles open onto 91m high cliffs! It was windy as all get-out, though we did venture carefully towards the edge…and oh my, how gorgeous. We leaned over the tall cliffs (well, really laid down to avoid becoming human sacrifices), watched the tall waves crash against the bottom of the cliffs, and basically just took it all in while trying to avoid getting blown off. The sun illuminated the sea, which sparkled blue in the afternoon sun…a good indication of what was to come on our tour of the West Coast.

Soon we realized the bikes were due back soon and we still had to ride a ways to Kilronan. The guy at the bike place had recommended coming back on the coast road, so we took that, and luckily it was a tiny bit flatter and easier to manage than the main road. Unfortunately, we had a head wind the whole time which slowed us up. But, that just meant there were more opportunities to stop and take pictures at pretty alcoves, a seal colony (though there were none there that day), and to talk to the cows (but of course). Finally we arrived at the pier and deposited the bikes about 5 minutes before they were going to close.

All the bike-riding and exploring had made us hungry for dinner. After looking at our options (cooking in or eating out), we decided on making our own fish and chip dinner—much more reasonably priced than going out. In the meantime while everything was in the oven, Mary and I taught Pat and Flo the game “Farkle” (the dice game Mary had taught me on the train to Frankfurt), and then Flo taught us “Yam” (sort of like Yatzee, but harder). It seemed like everyone was settling in and becoming more comfortable with each other. Dinner was good, though afterwards we were freezing from sitting in the kitchen so long (note: Ireland is cold) and headed back to the room.

I made a call to the Aille River Hostel in Doolin where we’d be staying the next night because they requested your travel plans a day in advance. I talked with Karl, the owner (who sounded very nice), and we discussed the possibilities for getting to Doolin. We had planned on taking the 4:30pm ferry (like a 20min ride), and if so we’d arrive before the 8pm cut-off point for check-in. If for some reason we missed it, we’d have to take the 5pm ferry back to Galway, and the bus going from Galway to Doolin would not get us there before 8pm. Otherwise, we could play it very safe and take the 12pm ferry to Galway and then the bus to Doolin, or take the 11:30 ferry to Doolin. It sounded like we were going to be fighting time, but whatever…I was feeling like we’d make it (ha). So, since it looked like we’d have several more hours on the island, we got to bed in order to “profite bien” from the next day.

We were up early for breakfast, and then jogged down the tourist office to make sure the ferries were running as scheduled. The lady there even called the ferry captain who said the 4:30pm would definitely be running (though he had canceled the 11:30am). Hurray! We could stay on the island longer. It was again a beautiful day (what luck!), though we walked the main road instead of biking. But, that allowed us to play the Question Game (where one person asks a question and everyone has to respond including the person who asked)…we discussed such things as: Peanut Butter vs. Nutella, where we want to live, our dream jobs, and our research project of choice. Very interesting actually.

Around lunchtime we arrived at the café we’d been to the day before and the lady working there remembered us…she was like, “where are you all staying?”…I guess unless you’re in the direct vincinity, you don’t come back 2 days in a row. Today, she gave us each 2 slices of bread (score), we had more soup, and got a table right next to the stone hearth. Lovely. I was beginning to get the sense of how friendly people were here and how welcoming the country was…

On the way back to Kilronan, we walked straight into the wind. It’s actually quite tiring to do this, and gives you the feeling of seasickness since you’re constantly being blown from side to side. So unfortunately the route felt twice and long and arduous. Back at the hostel, we cooked up the rest of the chips from night before, played another logic word game, and eventually went to catch the ferry (Mary in the meantime had also gone to the Aran Sweater Museum, which she found quite interesting and relayed the history of the sweaters to us.). At 4:05pm we stopped in the tourist office again to make sure the ferry was still running since we’d noticed that the wind had picked up. But the lady said it was still running and would be waiting down at the very end of the pier.

It was strange when we arrived down at the end of the pier and there was no ferry. There was a dingy with some pretty salty-looking sailors aboard and we thought perhaps this might be it since there weren’t a lot of people going to Doolin and it’s such a short trip. But after some inquiries on the boat, it was not in fact our ferry boat at all. Bizarre. Mary and Pat ran back to the tourist office around 4:20pm, and when they got back we heard the bad news—at 4:10 (five minutes after we’d stopped in), they’d canceled the ferry! Shoot.

So, quick change of plans, and we hopped on the Galway ferry. It was quite bumpy to start with, but since this was a huge boat, we could sit inside on comfy seats and at least not get wet. The main problem is that we were going to miss getting to Doolin that night—hence, we’d be charged for our reservation since we were not there. Pat called Karl, and it seemed like we would all be charged for the beds. Ack. But, there was nothing we could do. Arriving back at the pier near Galway, we went into the ticket office and even asked the lady there if there was anyway to get to Doolin by 8pm…her response? “Not even if you started walking now.” Heh.

While waiting for the bus, we made another call to Karl at Aille River, this time with me talking since I had talked with him the night before. He was still very nice and I asked if we could possibly switch our reservation from Thursday night to Friday night…and we could! Pas de soucis. And we wouldn’t be charged for the Thursday night reservation. Sigh o’ relief! We got on the bus feeling better, but still had a bit of an organizational problem ahead of us. Originally it was planned to visit and stay with my friend Julien (one of the Bourg boys) in Limerick for two nights. Now that we’d pushed everything back a night, we weren’t sure how it was going to work to get to go see him. Oh well, there was nothing we could do on the bus. So, Florence and I shared my iPod and listened to Irish music while watching the beautiful coast roll by.

Back in Galway, we re-checked into the Kinlay House hostel (luckily they still had beds available), and hopped on the internet to contact Julien. Hopefully he would get the e-mail before Friday afternoon when we were supposed to be meeting. By that point we were hungry, so we took a recommendation from the desk and went to a place called La Salsa for dinner—omg, so good. Real Mexican food, ENFIN (finally). After that we decided it was high time we went to a pub (after all we’d been in Ireland 2 nights already and hadn’t gone). Our pub of choice was Tig Cóilí, and we waded in through the massive amount of people crammed into the tiny pub. It was great though, and eventually we managed to get seats at the bar. The atmosphere was super-lively, and we started in on the Guinness. A little later on, the live traditional music started! A group including a fiddle, accordion, guitar, harp started playing and totally made my night. Also, there happened to be some people with instruments passing through, so they joined right in. And, this random lady with a fabulous voice did a few songs a-cappella…sooo cool!

As it was getting later though, Florence was feeling a little claustrophobic and I was definitely starting to feel the head cold coming on…uh oh. So, we all walked back to the hostel, though Mary and Pat headed back out to finish off the night. Hurray for our first pub experience in Ireland!

Doolin (Dubh Linn)

The next morning we were up early again for breakfast and packing. Someone had left the heater on in the room (we weren’t alone this time) so it was humid and smelled like hostel…I was glad to get back out into the fresh air. At the bus station we bought our tickets and waited in the sunshine for the bus. Karl had said the bus driver would even drop us off right in front of the hostel, so no worries about directions. It was a lovely ride and I listened to more Irish music on the way. And true to life, we got dropped off right on our path to the hostel, which actually ended being more like a big house. Karl greeted us there (it’s such a different experience to meet people who can pronounce your name correctly on the first go and who know how to spell it), and then gave us a energetic tour of the house. I’d forgotten, but there was free internet and washing, which meant we could hopefully contact Julien more easily and we could be clean ;) After getting a message from Julien and sending one back (we were hoping he could drive up and meet us in Doolin and spend the night at the hostel with us), we got unpacked and got ready for a hike.

Doolin, apart from being known for its traditional music scene, is also close to the famous Cliffs of Moher. We got there early enough in the day to make the hike. Karl gave us walking directions. His first direction? Go to the metal gate that says don’t cross, and then go over that. Oh boy. Heh. Basically all along the way, he said to ignore the warning signs and jump the fences anyway to be able to walk right along the cliffs. So, doing as we were instructed, we spent the next 3 hours walking literally a foot from hundred meter drops. Talk about exciting and spectacular. Finally we arrived at this castle look-out point from which you can see the Cliffs of Moher. And they are indeed grand. It was also the windiest weather ever, so we didn’t hang around too long (well, except for Pat who decided to stay for a bit longer than us girls).

Another piece of advice from Karl was to hitchhike back. He seemed convinced we wouldn’t have a problem getting back. Mary, Florence, and I held out our thumbs and asked people heading into the parking lot for rides back, all to no avail. Finally, we were about to give up, when I suggested waiting for one more car that was coming towards us. Lo and behold, they actually slowed down! Turns out, it was an American couple (Nora and Peter), who were on their way back not only to Doolin, but to our hostel! Too funny. They were from Vermont and California respectively and told us about their travels, staying in Egypt, and visits to relatives who make wine. Ireland was the last stop on their 8-month journey and so they’d splurged by renting a car (much to our delight).

Back at the hostel, we chilled for a bit and found out Julien would be coming up to meet us so we got him a reservation. Yay! This would be fun. Pat came back a little while later (having gotten picked up right away…darn you Pat), and we all played Farkle (of course). Around dinner-ish time we walked down the road (the one main road) to O’Connor’s Pub. Settling on the Irish beef stew, we had a delicious meal…man it was good to have stew again. You don’t realize how much you miss certain foods until you eat them. That and this year has been a very vegetarian diet for me so, meat=GOOD. Soon Julien arrived—so cool to be meeting up with a French friend in Ireland! Julien ordered and then Mary and I bought the first round of drinks. I was definitely starting to enjoy the Guinness. The traditional music started a little while later, and the group of three tonight included the tin whistle (which Mary now wants to learn) and more singing. The guy playing the guitar was the singer and man did he do it with emotion. It’s so refreshing to hear music that comes from the heart and from a place beyond the desire for superstardom or money—big difference.

Later, we decided to pub-hop a bit and catch all the musical acts we could. Florence went back to the hostel and we all headed in the other direction up the road to McDermott’s. Another round and more music later, we met a Frenchman named Victor (the first of several Frenchmen). He was originally from Marseille but had been living in Ireland for about 7 years and said he had no desire to go back to France. He’d been in Doolin for 3 years, and told us that honestly tonight the music was “off”…apparently there are much better nights. Heh. Our final stop was McGann’s, and we were there a pretty long time, listening to more music, meeting Aussies, and having a debate about the linguistic merit/theory of what makes words vulgar…you know, as you do. It was good because Pat was a linguistics major and is now even going to grad school for it, so he totally disproved and challenged our theories in the first few minutes. Interesting conversation. Eventually we headed back to the hostel, tip-toed into bed, and hit the sack.

Loophead Lighthouse and Limerick (Luimneach)

Up early again to search out breakfast (I was beginning to notice a pattern), we found fruit, bread, and jam, at the one local market (there are more pubs than markets in Doolin). We ate after packing up and then started talking to Karl. He convinced us to take a certain route around another peninsula on our way down to Limerick. He said going out to the Loophead Lighthouse at the peninsula’s point was necessary since it was one of the “hidden gems” of Ireland.

Well, we had transportation thanks to Julien and he was up for an adventure, so off we went! First, we stopped at the Cliffs of Moher so Julien could go see them, and then tried to figure out the way to Loophead—Karl had given us hand-drawn directions, but they were a little harder to follow if you’ve never driven in the area. We passed by lots and lots of open land, tractors, and cows on the way to Kilkee (the first “major” town—ha—that we would pass through). We managed to get a little lost, but did come across a Starbucks-like coffee place and I had my first mint mocha in 8 months—pretty much heaven. Back on the road (and after stopping briefly to take pictures of baby horses in a field), we sang along to bluegrass and Irish music on the radio, and eventually ended up on a “C” road…in the middle of tall grass in a field. So fun! Only then it was starting to rain a bit and we didn’t want to get caught in a muddy field so we decided to get back on the A road to the lighthouse. We did get there and it was really cool. There were more cliffs (Julien and I sat right on the edge), squishy grassy areas that we jumped and frolicked our way through, and we generally had a great time.

Back in Kilkee we stopped for deli sandwiches, and then began the long drive to Limerick (I think everyone but me fell asleep…I think I was scared of missing something, though honestly in the gray the drive was fairly bland). We arrived chez Julien early in the evening, and started meeting his roommates. If you’ve seen the movie “L’Auberge Espagnole” you would understand what his house was like! There was Julien (a frenchie), a Swiss-German guy, a Czech, a Spaniard, and an Austrian…all under the same roof. Plus, that weekend, there was an Irish guy visiting from Dublin, so we really had quite the multi-cultural experience.

Julien and I walked to the market together to get food, and though the one we wanted was closed, it was really nice to catch up with him and speak in French for a bit (I’d missed it—though I did notice how little time it had taken for me to really have to “think” before speaking). Back at the house we basically chilled, taught Julien Farkle, ate dinner, and went to bed after a long day!

Dingle Town (An Daingean)

Julien was a sweetheart and drove us all to the train station the next morning. Mary would unfortunately be leaving us to go back to Dublin (in order to take a flight to Barcelona to meet up with our friend Lisa)—sad! However, I would get to see her again in Lyon in a few days, so at least we still had a bit of traveling together left to do. The other 3 of us said one more final goodbye to Julien and were soon off on our own train to Dingle. There were no problems except a late connection at the Limerick Junction (but luckily they held the other train for everyone!), and we did get to Tralee before the bus left. Since we had a bit of time, we walked down the main street and stopped in a really chic, yet homey, café for lunch. Getting back to the bus station in the nick of time, we were finally due west, heading towards Dingle.

The ride unfortunately was spent in heavy clouds, fog, and gray mist—though the green fields were still very vibrant. There were these huge hills covered in cows and sheep and yellow flowers—quite lovely. You definitely get the impression you’re heading into rural territory and probably won’t be inundated with people on the visit. Which was good. I was looking forward to more of the peacefulness that we’d managed to find here on the West Coast.

After checking in at our hostel and doing some grocery shopping, I went exploring while Pat and Florence rested. I hadn’t been able to make it to mass that morning because of our train time, so I took the opportunity to go and sit awhile in prayer in St. Mary’s church. It was good to have that alone time with God. Around town, I encountered lots of brightly colored buildings (which stood out in contrast against the gray sky), and stores that centered on jewelry, crafts, music, and wool products. Lol. I also noticed in walking around town that all the street signs and traffic signs are in Irish only! Dingle is apparently one of the “gaeltecht” areas of Ireland where Irish is learned as the first language. Eventually joining the others back at the hostel to relax, I first ran into Nora and Peter downstairs who’d given us girls a ride back to Doolin from the Cliffs of Moher. Turns out it’s a pretty small world, at least on the west coast of Ireland!

Our pub of choice that night was The Small Bridge, and we really wanted a good seat so we got there relatively early. There was almost no one there at first, so we parked ourselves at a table right in front of the musicians and right next to a roaring fire…and then we started in on the Guinness. Soon after, the guitarist arrived and got the sound equipment set up. He was later joined by an accordion and a bohdran player. We then proceeded to listen to amazing trad for 2 solid hours. HEAVEN. They played a lot of polkas, heartbreak songs, slides, reels, jigs, and several songs I knew, including: The Black Velvet Band, Will You Go Lassie, and Song for Ireland. The singer (the guitarist) had a deep throaty, yet emphatically melodic voice and I got goosebumps listening to him sing.

All the while, I’d also noticed how good the bohdran player was. After the pub started closing, we got to talk to him! As it turns out, Eric Marini is one of the best bohdran players in the country (he won the Co. Kerry competition and came in 6^th in the country) and, get this, he’s from LYON. He’s French! Oh man…crazy world. Not only is he an excellent musician and cool guy, but he’s also from one of my favorite cities. We then ended up talking with him for about an hour and half, though they kicked us out of the pub about 20 minutes into conversation (the waitress just laughed and said Eric is always “closing down the bar”). So, we stood outside and continued talking, and he actually gave us a lot of good advice on what to see the next day on our bike ride around the peninsula. He mentioned some archaeological sites we’ve might not have known about otherwise and gave us good directions to find them. We also got into American politics, immigration and a person’s origins (turns out he’s French, Italian, and a mutt of Western Europe), language teaching, and numerous other topics. It was a very interesting conversation.

About halfway through, we got interrupted by a young guy (probably around 20) who was completely smashed but saw my journal (which Eric was writing in) and wanted to sign it! Lol. He insisted, so of course I let him. He then needed to get some things off his chest. Apparently he was having girl woes. Bascially he was freaking out because he finally had a girlfriend (huh??). Apparently he was a “one night stand” kind of guy, and actually having a permanent girlfriend was tripping him out…he was dealing with all kinds of commitment issues to say the least. Aw. He asked Pat if he had a girl, and Pat said yes, and that they’d been dating for 2 years, which our new friend took with a sense of awe. It was cute. Anyway, he eventually went back to his group (nice guy in the end), and Eric walked us back to the hostel. Though he invited us to go to a friend’s place for a party, we reluctantly made the “right” decision and went to bed…otherwise I don’t think our bike ride the next day would have been possible ;) (Note: next time, spend more time in Dingle so that if an awesome bohdran-ist ask you to a party, you GO)

Slea Head Drive (Ceann Sléibhe) Dingle Town

Don’t let the title fool you—the day spent going around Slea Head was not a drive, but instead was a 25 mile (40km) bike ride. Heh. So, of course we were up early and renting bikes from Paddy next door right as he opened. The difference between these bikes and the ones on Inishmore was that these were actually ride-able. They were in great condition, had gears that could be changed, and didn’t make you feel as if you were riding a piece of equipment that was going to fall apart at any minute. In a word=fabulous. And we were off! (after a gentle reminder from Paddy that “here, we bike on the left side of the road”)

Pat had arranged for us to do this big loop of the Dingle peninsula, known as the Slea Head Drive. Admittedly I was intimidated by the 25 mile price tag because I am not that in shape. But, you’re only in Dingle once right? (well, I hope not, but that was the mentality I went with) The first trek was mostly along the edge of beautiful cliffs with steep down-slopes full of sheep. I thought it was amusing that all of the sheep had been tagged with florescent magenta or blue paint (I guess to get ready for shearing?)…you never saw so many colorful sheep in your life. We even got a little sun as we started the ride and it made for sparkling water views along the edge.

Our first archaeological stop was to see the Beehive Huts (really the Fahan oratories). They were built by monks in 2000 BC and here we were standing in the middle of them taking pictures. Incroyable. Continuing along the edge, we saw the Blasket Islands hovering in the far-away mist, loads more sheep, a crucifix, and a tour bus of old ladies from New Jersey (it was weird to hear the accent again) who were convinced that drunk Irishmen were actually behind the “painting” of the sheep. It was quite a peaceful ride, and not too too difficult…today there were lots of downhills mixed in with the uphills. We broke for lunch on a slope and could see a gorgeous beach cove down below. Although the sky was gray by this point and it was chillier, it was still so peaceful. One of those times when you didn’t need to say anything, you could just be.

The second half of the ride around the peninsula point was beautiful and the sun even came out for a bit as we rolled with the hills, passing by green pastures and colorful houses sparsely dotting the landscape. Our final archaeological hotspot was the Gallarus Oratory and it was such a treat to see. The stone oratory (which was believed to be used for worship) was built in like the 8^th century and is to this day standing, completely mortar-free, and solidly airtight—the kind of the thing that make you step back and go, “huh?” with a sense of awe. The precision of the building was amazing. They just don’t make anything like it anymore…

Our final “descent” (ha!) was actually the biggest “ascent” we’d had the whole day. And having stopped for awhile to see the oratory didn’t make it any easier to get back on the bike and head uphill (at this point we’d been going for about 5 hours). Ugh. Florence and I decided to walk our bikes up that last little bit, while Pat showed us up by riding the whole way ;) However, going downhill back into town has never felt so good and I definitely could appreciate it on a whole other level.

Once we were back in town we made a beeline for Murphy’s Ice Cream shop. We’d definitely earned some homemade (!!) ice cream. It had been recommended by our book and didn’t disappoint—especially not two scoops of Bailey’s Irish Cream and Chocolate Whiskey. Mmmmm. We looked in some shops afterwards and before going back to the hostel stopped in the Dingle Record Shop for Florence and I to buy music for our Irish Band director. This turned out to be the best move ever. First, the Dingle Record Shop is this tiny corner of a building, maybe about the size of my bedroom here. But don’t let that fool you. It was packed with CDs, a lot of music from local artists (score), and was run by a lovely, vivacious woman named Mazz O’Flaherty. The three of us talked to her for a bit about what we were looking for, Flo and I told her about Irish Band…she was so helpful and played us tons of music we might be interested in (totally puts to shame the mega-music stores in the U.S. with zero service or personality), and she gave us her recommendations. We then realized we were out of money, so said we’d be back and ran to the ATM.

I was actually the only one who made it back to the shop (Pat and Flo wanted to check out some of the other stores) and totally surprised Mazz. Apparently she thought that when we’d left she’d never see us again. And I mentioned that I hate when people just say things and don’t actually mean it, so I try to avoid that. She asked what I meant exactly and I started giving examples of people being disingenuous….as it turns out, that sparked an hour-long conversation! We literally talked about everything—from traveling, to the future, to death, to Africa, to honesty. It was a really really good conversation, and one of those that’s also very enlightening. What a special thing to get to hear about life from a totally different perspective. (p.s. a little free publicity for Mazz: www.dinglerecordshop.com …and if you’re ever in Dingle, be sure to stop by! For the record her recommendations were spot on and I picked up some fabulous CDs produced by local artists)

After I left the shop I finally took the much needed shower back at the hostel and we made turkey melts for dinner. While waiting to go out to the pub, we sat in the cozy living room next to the fire and played….Connect 4! Allllright! I of course failed miserably, but Pat and Flo matched each other the whole time. Anyway, we had decided to try another pub that night, Dick Mack’s. The interior decor was the coolest I’d seen, and I felt as if I might be back in the 1800s stopping into an old-timey saloon or general store. There wasn’t actually any music there that night—just a bunch of people hanging around talking…so we followed suit. I think it was good to have that night that was a little quieter and we could actually talk to each other. Soon though Flo and I admitted we were exhausted and so went back to the hostel. (Pat went back to Dick Mack’s after dropping us off)

Dublin (Baile Átha Cliath)

The next morning was our earliest (up at 6am) and we quickly finished packing and ate breakfast. We got down to the bus stop by the water in plenty of time, and while we were waiting saw a lazy sunrise. We got on the bus to Tralee, no problem, and in all the towns where we stopped, more and more plaid-clad schoolchildren hopped on. And! And! It was a sunny and green ride! Even though we’d missed the sun on the way in, we definitely got it on the way out. Just as good. The subsequent trains to Dublin were rather uneventful and I was feeling the tiredness at this point.

Arriving in Dublin fairly early in the day, I was glad to feel the bright sunshine on my face again. Trugging along from the train station to our hostel was a bit tiring, but at the same time we got to walk along the quays of the river which was lovely. Finally getting to the hostel, we walked into loud and blaring music in the reception, and got a key to luggage storage since the room was not yet ready. Taking advantage of the gorgeous weather, we went walking along the river to the downtown area. It was almost a shock to be a part of the massive amounts of people and the regular hustle and bustle of a big city again after being so far removed from that the past few days. Dublin “moves.” Our first destination was Trinity College Library in order to go see the Book of Kells…an illustrated version of the 4 Gospels written in 800 AD. While there at the exhibit we also saw the Books of Durrow and Armagh, and upstairs saw the Brian Ború Harp—Ireland’s oldest harp! Very cool and very impressive.

On the way back to the hostel to check in, we bought dinner, and just walked around through the crowds. After getting settled in the room, we went out to explore several churches right around our hostel…though first stopping for a mint-mocha break in coffee shop. Oh man do I love being back in an Anglophone country with large mugs of coffee. Mmmmm. Our walk through the church district took us to Christ Church Cathedral, and inside the church of the Immaculate Conception. I really enjoy visiting churches. Just a random observation.

Back at the hostel, the dining area was packed with guests watching the Liverpool-Chelsea match on the TV, though luckily we found seats and could eat dinner. Lol. Soon after, we made what turned out to be a great decision and went to the Brazen Head Pub for our last night out in Ireland. The Brazen Head is supposedly Ireland’s oldest pub and was hopping that night. We started out at the bar with our Guinness and cider and eventually got a table among the masses. And even though there were a ton of people, the pub still felt really cozy and personal, and we were never that far from the musicians….who, by the way, were awesome. There were tons of songs to sing along to, a guy playing the spoons (magnifique), and music that continued to come straight from the soul. Wow, I was definitely going to miss this. And, because it was one of the group member’s 40^th birthday that night, they played a longer set and kept the pub open late. Hurrah! It was a great way to go out.

Traveling—The End

The next morning after breakfast at the hostel and sleepily getting our stuff together (none of us had slept last night due to traffic noise on the quay and one man in the room who snored loudly), we ran to catch the Airlink bus to the airport. We missed the first one (the posted times had been incorrect), and waited for the second. Still having plenty of time we caught a city double-decker that also went straight to the airport. We were on our way, when about halfway there the bus started breaking down and overheating. The driver kept having to pull over on the highway and wait a couple minutes for the temperature to cool! Eventually he called the company asking for help, though he knew he had to get us to the airport. The bus coughed and chugged along and just as well pulled into the bus parking at the gate, finally gave up—but we’d made it! Phew! Airport check-in was no problem, and we got on the plane with ease, not having to worry about catching a train to Galway.

Getting off the plane, I was definitely sad...in the 8 days that we'd been there, I'd really taken a liking to Ireland. Before we left the hostel in Dublin, I'd seen a notice on the board advertising positions open at another hostel in town. Needless to say I was very tempted to call them up. Hmm....maybe for next year? On verra ;) Slanté!

Au Gîte (12/04/08—13/04/08)

Ready Poizat? Here comes the Irish Band! Although I had no idea what to expect, I had signed up awhile ago to go with the Irish Band to a gîte in Poizat for the weekend (a gîte is basically a big self-catering hotel that you can essentially “rent” for groups or individuals). We had our normal Saturday morning rehearsal of course, and started preparing Baroque Irish music to play at our concert on the 24th of May…should be interesting! The music is cool and it’s neat to hear the evolution from Baroque into the Irish-style of playing. I left my cello with Raphael, whose family would be taking it in their car…the carpooling of all of us plus instruments was like a big jigsaw puzzle, although I think eventually everything fit.

We all met back up at the Centre Culturelle around 2pm, though soon I was riding back to my apartment with Jean-Christophe to get a blanket and sheets for Cyrielle who’d forgotten her sac de couchage (sleeping bag). On the car ride, I discovered that J-C and his wife Dorothé (adorably sweet woman) are both Italian, both speak it fluently, and J-C even speaks a certain dialect specific to the North. Very cool. The things you learn…

Back at the Centre Culturelle, we all piled into cars and headed off to Poizat (me, having no idea where that was, though vaguely thinking I may have hiked there in the snow back in November). I was in Marie’s car with Maud and her boyfriend Stephen who was coming up for the weekend too. A lot of the way, Marie was telling me about her medical FAC in Lyon…as it turns out she lives in the same glass résidence étudiant (student housing) that my friend Alison lived in when we were in Lyon before. And apparently, since it’s a glass building and she’s in a studio where you can see the other rooms that curve around (the building is like a flat “u”), she has tons of interesting stories to tell about all the goings-on. Quite amusing.

After climbing higher into the mountains past Nantua, we arrived at our gîte, les Frutières, and began to unload. I think we brought enough things for a week. When I was in the car earlier with Jean-Christophe, he mentioned that he and Dorothé had been cooking all week to prepare the meals for the weekend. And cook they did! Anyway, eventually we got everything inside, picked bedrooms and then almost immediately we were all out on a walk together. It was a beautiful afternoon, the air rather crisp and cool, the sun still shining and snowy peaks of the Alps off in the distance. I surprised myself by actually leading a logic game that I picked up from Pauline at the Arbez Carme concert (not too many people had heard it, so I got a fresh audience), and had most people stumped for quite a long time. I also made Cyrielle and Marie hug a tree (they thought I was nuts), Raphael pretended to row a boat, we through snowballs at Jean-Christophe, Pauline, Leila, and I played “cap ou pas cap” (basically “dare”) and I ended up asking questions in a bar and barking like a dog. Too much fun :)

On the way back I stopped at the local church, not knowing what to do about going to mass…often times in the smaller towns, the priest rotates through and so you have to change towns with him. With Marie’s help in calling the rectory, we figured out that mass was going to be right there later that evening! Hurray! God is so good…had it been any other weekend, I would have had to have asked someone to drive me at least 20 minutes away for mass in another town. But, it just so happened the Saturday evening mass was to be held in Poizat. After chilling at the gîte for a little bit, I soon headed back up the road to mass. It was a beautiful little church, and had about 16-20 people…good considering the smallness of the town and that it was Saturday night. There was no music, but the priest saying mass had a strong voice and led all the songs. It was actually really nice to have an all a-cappella mass and his singing sounded like prayers being sung to heaven.

Back at the gîte I got involved in the game room, playing French Taboo, watching pool, and then playing foosball with Marie (it’s called “bébé-foot in French… “baby soccer”--how cute!). After that it was time for dinner, and we finally got to see all the massive amounts of preparations that went into the weekend. Dorothé kept bringing out platter after platter of delicious food. Mmmmm…the French and Italians do know how to cook. I was sitting down towards the end of the table, and it was still slightly awkward because no one was talking much and I didn’t know them well enough to get everyone involved in a conversation. Luckily, Maud’s boyfriend Stephen started up the logic/mind games again and soon everyone loosened up, though we ready to kill him because we couldn’t figure out this one puzzle. Colin even proposed one where we had to balance a glass a pitcher on 3 forks that were balanced on 3 glasses! It all really helped to break the ice.

Soon we were all heading upstairs to change and started getting ready to play. By this point there were even friends of some of the girls who’d come to join in the evening’s merriment. We set up in this massive (albeit cold) room and we just started dancing…to whatever everyone felt like playing! I learned some new dances from Jean-Christophe and Dorothé (they had apparently been taking dance classes which is why they were so good and knew all the steps). Towards the end of the evening (around midnight), we all sang Irish songs we knew, and then Raph found swing music on his computer and I taught a few East Coast swing steps. Leila and I did interpretive dances to more Irish music, and I got to try the bodhran (the Irish drum…very difficult to play)—all in all a highly enjoyable evening…

…though it didn’t stop there. Around 1am, most people left and went to bed. However, Leila, Cyrielle, Beverley, Colin, Raph, Léa, Marie, and I stayed up and listened to music for awhile. Soon that turned into singing because Colin and Raph had 4 binders full of popular music they knew how to play. So, we sang and sang and sang and sang. Leila and Cyrielle went to bed around 5am. The rest of us didn’t. Around 6ish we realized it was dawn, we were cold, and tired…and yet had no desire to stop hanging out. Instead of staying in the cold music room we went to the living room of the gîte and started up a fire in the fireplace, and continued to sing.
Around 7am (I think), we succumbed to dozing, with the exception of Marie and Colin who went to play ping-pong. We must have looked like puppies all curled up together on the couches and chairs.

After short half-hour naps, we sat and chatted for awhile, I taught Marie how to play pool, played a round with Colin (who until then had totally intimidated me, though we had a really nice conversation and afterwards I felt much more comfortable around him…do partially to the fact that we were making ridiculous shots because we were both so tired…it provided some good laughs).

Finally, around 8:30am everyone who’d been asleep started drifting in for breakfast. It was nice to eat with everyone, though at that point all I wanted was a pillow and to not look like I’d been up for more than 24 hours. Ah well. After a long hot shower to wake up, I suggested going for a walk, and we took it one step further—everyone grabbed their instruments and we played music through the streets! Eventually we found an open area and set up shop (I was on the jambé and the tambourine since cellos don’t travel well). Annie even came to watch, and a mother and son listened from their balcony.

Back at the gîte, parents had already started to arrive in order to carpool everyone home. And so we all did what we do best—eat. There was even more food that appeared as if from nowhere, and we had a very lively lunch. After lunch, there was still a little time till we had to leave, so I played more foosball with Bev, Colin, and Raph…though since I was totally exhausted by that point, I started talking to Bev in English without realizing it. So, we went and ate dessert. (yes I know that’s totally a non-sequitur, but whatever) Mmmm.

Over dessert, I had a really really lovely conversation with Leila and Cyrielle, two girls who are super-sweet and very easy to talk to. We talked forever about our future plans, cultural differences between the U.S. and France, speaking English (they both take English), religion, etc, etc. It was great to feel so comfortable with them, and the French just kind of flowed out. And, I think we’re going to try and keep in touch…they will write to me in English, and I’ll respond in French, each of us making corrections to help the other person. Hopefully that will work out!

I wandered back into the game room after they went upstairs to finish packing, and found Alexandre in there…he’s our fabulous percussionist. I never could quite get a read on him though, and always thought he looked a little distant or gloomy. As it turns out (normally my first impressions of people are wrong and this was no exception), he’s really really nice and has a sweet smile and kind eyes. He’s just quiet. As we started playing, although we weren’t saying much, I realized it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence—it was actually very companionable. Anyway, it was soon time to head out, and I got a ride back with Diane, Clémentine, and Clémentine’s mom. We ended up talking about the laicité in France (secularism), and Clémentine’s mom said something very interesting. She said that France has gone so far with this intense separation of church and state, that people are actually starting to reject religion all together—not even just separating it out, but turning their back on God. Hm. In a way that’s what I’ve observed this year, though I wasn’t quite sure of the motivations. It was an interesting perspective.

Once I got home this afternoon, I pretty much crashed…after all, I have to get ready and pack for Ireland! (so a nap was definitely in order) What a fantastic way to start off the vacation though. I’m so glad that I decided to go…it was a great way to get to know some of the people better, and I think I became one of the gang. It felt good to finally get the real stories and go “behind the music.” :)

Irish Band at Arbez Carme (09/04/08)

What a night! The Irish Band had a gig tonight at one of the local high schools…which I thought was kind of odd when I first saw it on the schedule. Why were we playing at a high school in the middle of the week? Bizarre. Come to find out, the high schools in the area host this really cool weeklong arts and culture festival thing. Every night, there was a different cultural group performing something (i.e. African dancing, Turkish music, us), and for the students it was all free (the general public was asked to donate). What a cool idea! And a great way to expose people to all the different culture here and alive in Oyonnax. So we were the middle-of-the-week act. And I wasn’t sure what to expect. First, it’s been pouring down raining all night, and then we’re talking about high school-ers here. At first there weren’t a lot of people, but after we got back from eating, the place had definitely filled up! And mostly with high school-ers! (not so many adults or parents) We started the concert and after each piece got roaring applause. I think it also helped that a lot of the people in the group knew a lot of the people in the audience. Heh.

I hadn’t realized it beforehand, but we were going to be playing our normal “bal” program after the concert! Though the skeptic in me is still going “oh please, a bunch of high schoolers are really going to dance around to Irish music…” Proved wrong, yet again. The whole room was totally into it! Everyone seemed really anxious to learn (Clémence’s mom acted as our caller as she had at Meximieux, and was a pro at this by now), and there was dancing until at least 1am when everyone realized it was a school night. I got in a few dances myself and of course had a blast. Life should be like this every night, à mon avis. Goodnight and happy dancing!

Ephata with Anne (08/04/08)

When there’s a Tuesday night free and a wide-open Wednesday following it, you take that opportunity to go to Ephata :) For a long time I had really wanted Anne to come and experience the night (and to show her a different side of the Catholic church). Luckily, we found a Tuesday where we both could go, so we hopped on the train at Bourg and got to Lyon ages later. (though it was really nice to have that talk time in the train). Since we didn’t get in until around 9pm, we’d missed the opening music, but sat down just in time for the Scripture reading and Father’s reflection on it. And then of course came the solid hour of Adoration…talking to Anne about it afterwards, she commented that it was great to just have that quiet, uninterrupted prayer time. I realized how true that was…and I definitely felt like it was quality. For some reason I’m never distracted there and I can focus. It’s wonderful like that.

We chatted with some people once things had finished up, but then soon we left with Cécile our host for the night. She had told me the last time I was there that if I ever needed a place to stay, to let her know. She was so gracious and arranged for Anne and I to stay in her apartment that night. When we got there we got to meet her co-locs (super sweet as well), and talked to them about Ephata and what we were doing in France. A lovely evening all around. It’s so encouraging and inspiring to meet people with open hearts and giving spirits.

A French Wedding (05/04/08—06/04/08)

I was very lucky this weekend and got to attend my first French wedding! It all came about by chance actually. On Thursdays I tutor Françoise’s two daughters and we were discussing the topic for the next week and came up with “traditions.” I gave some examples and mentioned weddings somewhere in there, saying how it’d be so cool to experience a wedding in another culture. And Laura was “oh, our cousin’s getting married in a couple weeks….Mom! Maura rapidfrench rapidfrench rapidfrench rapidfrench”. And right after Françoise was like, if you’d like to come I’ll ask my cousin. She gave me the thumbs up later that week and before I knew it I was picking out outfits for a French wedding. Trop fort!

Françoise and I left Oyonnax around mid-day yesterday to head towards a town near Lyon where everyone was meeting at the Mairie. Cultural point 1: unless the couple is very religious (and let’s face it, that’s harder and harder to come by nowadays), the important ceremony is the one that takes place at the Mayor’s office. Most of the guests are there and the bride and groom are all dressed and ready to go. This is where they sign the marriage license saying they are legally married, which can be more important than being “spiritually” married depending on the couple.

Anyway, at the Mairie I started meeting Françoise’s family…she has a boatload of cousins, especially on her father’s side and they are all similar in age, so are close. Everyone was really nice, and we ended up talking to Julie, the wife of one of the cousins, for most of the time before going in. It was a gorgeous spring day (they couldn’t have asked for better weather) and I could have stayed outside forever. But soon everyone headed upstairs to this beautiful room where the registrar was waiting. She went through the script and soon the couple was signing and people were applauding. The main part of getting married was over.

However, our next stop was a church in the town for a Catholic ceremony. This was actually my least favorite part of the day, ironically enough. I dunno, it just felt…hmmm…like it was just for show…just the sense I got, maybe I was completely wrong. The priest had to ask everyone to quiet down at one point, the very young children in attendance we up playing around on the altar (including the couple’s children. Cultural Point 2: Françoise says nowadays the order is date-live together-have children-get married later..maybe) , and it just wasn’t being taken very seriously. Which to me was sad. And it was ironic, at the end of the service (it wasn’t actually a full mass) Jeff Buckley’s version of “Hallelujah” played over the P.A. system which is definitely not a happy song about love. Beautiful music yes, but not exactly the most uplifting lyrics in the world.

We waited outside afterwards with the guests for the bride and groom to come out for pictures, and in the meantime I met more cousins and spouses, all of whom were so nice! We got invited to one’s house for coffee before going to reception later that evening. It was a really pleasant break in the festivities. More cousins joined us, and we had a little garden party…Sylvie and Florent have a lovely house in Lyon with a pretty yard—there are trees starting to bloom! Yay springtime! Soon though everyone piled into cars to get to the reception (and apparently before the reception there was going to be an “aperitif”)…off we went—to the château (don’t hate).

On the way to Belleville we traveled through beautiful countryside as we headed up into the Bourgogne region at sunset. After driving further and further into vineyards and gorgeous openness, we arrived at this fabulously elegant château…oh man, I was excited. Françoise explained Cultural Point 3: usually not everyone is invited to the dinner part of the reception, but everyone is invited to the apéritif…which included classy hors d’oeuvres, wine, cremant (a sparkling wine…sooo good), and lots of merriment. It was funny, and maybe it was all the cremant Julie and I were drinking, but we got into some pretty heavy discussions about religion, marriage, life and death, pain and suffering. Whoa…great conversation, though totally not expecting that one! At least I know now I can hold a deep, emotional conversation in French for a long period of time.

Soon everyone was being called into the main room for dinner. Only dinner didn’t start right away—more fun first! Cultural Point 4: It’s common for the friends of the couple to put together a tongue-in-cheek “presentation” about them. This was a powerpoint full of silly questions they each had to answer about the other, embarrassing pictures, songs the friends had made up (and then proceeded to sing), etc. etc. That lasted for a bit, and then finally everyone was invited à table. I was at a table with Françoise, Julie, her husband who’s name escapes me now, Josselyn (Françoise’s very cute second cousin), and a few other assorted guests. The music was already cranking so it was rather hard to hear and conversate, but luckily I could at least hear the people directly around me. Dinner was very nice and well-presented. According to the girls, the catering staff here far out-classed other weddings they’d been to because they were always smiling and were super-efficient.

The room had been dimmed long before, and for the presentation of the massive dessert bar, there were swirling lights on the couple as they cut the cake. Heh. Very retro. Soon, the dancing, and really what everyone had been waiting for, commenced. Cultural Point 5: So, I’m thinking, “oh this is nice, this will probably go on till around midnight right?” NO. That would be false. I was talking to Julie who said at her wedding she never went to bed and kept dancing the whole night. Apparently the dancing continues non-stop till usually 5 or 6 in the morning…at which point the couple may or may not go to bed, though if they do, they are sure to be awakened a couple hours later by their friends. Then, later in the morning is a brunch for everyone who’s still alive enough to crawl back to the dining room. I would have liked to have been around for that ;)

But, as a fun sidetrip, Françoise and I were going to stay at her father’s house after the wedding since he lived only about 45 minutes away, near Mâcon. Even though we left the wedding at 4am, it was murder driving to the house because we were both so tired. Eventually we arrived, and it was so dark out in the country, that I really didn’t see much of town…Sunday would be better. So, definitely ended up sleeping till noon. I don’t remember the last time I did that. I don’t know that I’ve ever done that apart from when I’ve been sick. Anyway, I got up thinking I’d be the last one, when as it turns out Françoise had only gotten up a couple minutes before that. Okay, so I didn’t feel too bad. We had a lovely brunch with M. Berthoud and I chatted with him for a long time afterwards while Fran was on the phone. We touched on everything from music to art (he’s an artist and showed me his studio---amazing!), to our favorite symphonies, to everything else. He did also confirm what I had heard from Richard during that tutoring session (I didn’t even bring up the topic), which I thought was interesting since the two men were from very different generations. I guess the problems are widespread. Our talk was wonderful though and it was so cool to get to experience art early in the day.

Since it was a breezily sunny day, we all headed out for a walk through the countryside shortly after. It was indeed gorgeous weather and we just strolled in and around the vineyards of Montbellet, looked at the hazy purple mountains in the distance, and saw the first signs of spring popping up everywhere. It also felt nice to soak up some sun, breathe in the fresh air, and get to be a part of all the colors happening around me. We had lunch back at the house, and soon after needed to hit the road and get back to Oyonnax. It has been such an exciting and peaceful weekend at the same time—what a fun experience! Now I just need to figure how to get invited to more French weddings… ;)

An Interesting Conversation (31/03/08)

During one of my English tutoring sessions today, I tutored a lawyer, Richard, who was preparing for a big international meeting at which English would be the common language. His English was already very good, but he just wanted to practice again, so we basically had a conversation hour. Being that we both love to talk, and hour and half had soon passed! I think we must have covered every topic possible…though one in particular was very interesting to me. He spoke for a long time about the French people, and in particular why the country was encountering problems. Me, not really having noticed too many (I idealize things a lot), and knowing that he was educated and obviously kept up with things, was particularly interested in what here things from his point of view.

The first thing, which I hadn’t realized, was that France’s economy was getting deeper and deeper into trouble. The second thing was why. Apparently France has remained a fairly industrial country throughout its development, with lots of factories and hard cord industry (hello Oyonnax). Well, now all the factories are closing and are being outsourced to China. It’s funny. In the U.S. I get the sense that we feel we’re the only ones being affected by outsourcing, and by China. Not true. Oyonnax’s level of unemployment is super high because of that. In the recent years many of the factories have shut down, and it’s now not producing much of anything…not even most of the plastics that it’s known for.

In addition to France losing its industry, and therefore money, it’s also having to pay out huge sums to all the social programs. Richard was saying that there are tons of old people (well, or “older” people) retiring and getting all the money they paid into over the years when the economy was better. Now, it’s creating drain for the struggling economy. So I asked Richard why things just don’t change—stop spending, move more into the service sector and away from industry. That’s the fourth thing. According to him (confirmed by others I’ve talked to) the French, in general, are resistant to change.

What had started this whole conversation was me praising the amount of vacation time I was getting as a teacher. Her agreed, laughed, and joked that vacation time in France is sacred. If any politician tried to get rid of that, he’d be shot. Well, then why, I asked, was Sarkozy trying to lengthen the work week/reduce time off/etc? Richard answered back with “well, has he succeeded?” Hm. “No” would be the correct answer. It’s change. He gave me another example. His firm was representing this company that was closing one of its branches located 10km to the east of Oyonnax. A lot of people were being affected, but were told they would all receive their same jobs at the other branch 10 km to the west of Oyonnax. So you think they’d move right? Same distance, same job, just in a different location. He said they all refused to move. It was too much of a change. It’s certainly an interesting situation. I’ll be curious to see what happens during the rest of Sarkozy’s tenure. And to see where France finally ends up in the grand scheme of globalization.

St. Patty’s at Meximieux (29/03/08)

Tonight the Irish Band played another St. Patrick’s Day concert! I rode with Florence (a fellow cellist) to Meximieux which is about 30 minutes from Lyon. It was good to chat with her and we got to talk about Ireland! She’s gotten the okay from the ‘rents and will be joining Pat, Mary, and I for our Emerald Isle extravaganza.

We arrived at the Salle des Fêtes (every town, no matter how small, has a Salle des Fêtes which seems to act basically like their big community center and usually has a big stage and other rooms for use. Very handy), and the boys were already there setting up the sound equipment. This place was giant compared to Groissiat and there was plenty of room for dancing (yessss). The association putting this on was also bustling about setting up the massive amount of tables and chairs…and decorating with green and shamrocks! Totally getting into it—too fun. (and they all had green bowler hats and vests!! adorable)

We all got ready in the dressing rooms (real ones this time—oh la classe), and by the time we got back down everything was ready and people were arriving. I heard that 300 chairs had been set up, though I was initially skeptical that they’d all fill up. We’d see. I was very excited because more of my friends were going to be able to come tonight! Soon I spotted Anne, Clément, Gael, Emily, Jean-Phillippe, Cynthia, and Yann (the final three I hadn’t seen since that weekend before Lourdes)…I was so touched that they all came, and plus it was our last Lourdes/Bourg apartment reunion too because on Monday Clém is leaving for England. Sad. Soon the concert started and before I knew it we were into the “bal” of the evening. And the place had definitely filled up (standing room only). It was then I saw Françoise and the gang and again felt so lucky to get to share this with friends. Everyone danced a ton and looked like they were having a great time.

By the time I got out there to dance, it was right time for Clém and JP and the others from church to leave. I was sad we didn’t even have time for one polka. They had to go meet some other friends from church and were already late (Anne and I suspect they just wanted Clém to themselves for awhile J), so alas we had to say goodbye. And I wasn’t all emotional like I thought I’d be, but it was still bittersweet nonetheless. Anne and Emily and Gael and I continued dancing for awhile, though Em and Anne headed out shortly after. I did dance with Sébastien, Béa, and Françoise too—we tackled a group reel. Oh man. I can’t get enough of the dancing.

Towards the end of the night (midnight-thirty-ish) Gael and I totally rocked those polkas and even completed the mazurka, rather successfully I must say ;) Things finally started winding down around 1am, and the group played out on the dance floor in a big circle, per tradition. It’s really fun at the end of the night because the violins will just start playing whatever, and the rest of us on other instruments or percussion just join in. What a blessing to get to be a part of it all. Happy sigh.